You Know Meera
by rough-em-up-ressler
Summary: AU where Meera Malik is still alive and brings out her fun, meddling side during a boring day at The Post Office, in order to cut the crap and get Keenler together finally. Might become a multi-chapter fic that will later include Reddington.
1. Meera's Plan

"Agent Keen?" Meera Malik, in professional attire, strode towards Elizabeth Keen with that girlish, mischievous CIA twinkle in her eye that was quite frankly terrifying.  
"Yeah?" she smiled at Meera knowingly, totally aware that _something_ was going on, just as Meera pulled her by the arm - bringing her up to pace as they walked towards her office.  
At the sight of someone official looking, she lowered her voice, dropping an octave and clearing her throat. Her face became immediately formidable and serious, much like the Meera Malik that Liz had met at first.  
"I need to show you the case file for a…" they reached Liz's office, safely out of earshot and closed the door.  
Sitting down at her desk, Liz shuffled some papers and leaned forward on her elbow "Just case files? I'd thought you were up to something there, with that grin."  
"Agent Keen, I am _always_ up to something." Meera dropped a heavy file on the glass desk and turned her head to the wall, smiling "First page. Tell me what you think."

Liz opened the paper file cautiously, looking at Meera for any clue of what was in store. With slender fingers, which no longer felt the absence of her wedding band, she picked up the photo that comprised the first page."Why is there a picture of one of the security guards in the expenses folder, Meera?"

Meera turned to face her colleague again

"Okay, hear me out."

"What did you do?" An expression of dread and fear crossed Liz's face instantly.  
"I'll never get the chance to tell you if you interrupt!"

"Fine. Go on." She sighed, relaxing back into the chair.

"Okay so this security guard was running point when we were doing intel on the last case-"

"Yeah I know who he is, I've seen him in the corridors."

"Interrupting! Anyway, like I was saying, we were talking in the SUV on the way there and he turns round to me and says something like 'did you know Agent Keen got us the lead on this one? She's really something."

"You're making this up-" this time, Liz was silenced by a look

"So I was impressed by this because usually the guards make comments about how pretty you are, or how hot you look when you're holding a gun, I mean not normally directly to me, but you know I've got hawk-like hearing and-"

This time it was Meera who stopped talking, to enjoy the gaping expression on her friend's face, her face coloring rapidly.

"They say what?" Liz asked, her mouth dry

"Well it's true," Meera shrugged, with a sly smile, "Would you let me finish? So I did some digging and it turns out he's two years younger than you, he's got a dog, a Labrador, and he's easy on the eyes so come on, Liz!" she pleaded.

"Meera it's not going to happen! I can't start bringing new people into my life right now!"

"Liz I'm truly sorry your ex-husband was a prick but Tom was then, Brian could be now!"

"Brian?" she shook her head, firmly but still smiling "Meera no way, this is ridiculous."

Meera perched on top of the desk, not going anywhere, "Come on, Agent Keen! Answer me this, friend to friend, colleague to colleague, "When was the last time-"

'UM-" A noise came from behind them.

Liz leaned round to look past Meera as Meera whirled her head around to see the back of the office. A horrified looking Donald Ressler sat at his desk, squirming with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Um, I'm…." He looked at them, weakly, "…here."

Meera laughed under her breath "Well shit. So you are." She turned back round to look at Liz and audibly cackled, she had her hair bunched up in her hands, eyes widened in embarrassment. She picked the file back up off the desk and tapped Liz on the shoulder with it as she exited. "Have fun."

There was a noticeably long silence after the door swung shut. Clearing his throat, Ressler spoke first, unable to make eye contact.  
"I wasn't listening, um… I tried to get your attention but you kept… talking. After that I felt like I couldn't show that I'd been here the whole time so I didn't want to say anything but I became painfully aware that there was only one door out of here and it didn't seem worth breaking a window over…" the colour drained from his face, "although I did consider it."

He gave a short, nervous laugh and fell silent.

"Well, you know Meera," she said, almost too quickly afterwards

"Well yeah, I _know_ Meera."

A few more moments passed until Liz spoke again, "I'm not going to call Brian." she stated quietly.

Ressler just shrugged, "Your call." He got up from his chair and made it halfway across the room before he stopped, put a hand on his hip and stared at the floor,

"That wasn't meant to be a pun."

* * *

Meera was a highly skilled, highly trained agent. She knew when someone was watching her.

"Agent Ressler?" She turned to him with an extremely professional gaze.

"Agent Malik. Hi," He smiled briefly, waiting until Meera was done with the coffee machine to use it himself.

Nodding sincerely, she stepped out of the way "I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable earlier, I had no idea you were there."

"It's not a problem." He corrected her gruffly. Turning, he put his coffee down to cool and flicked the ends of his suit jacket out behind him with his signature hands-on-hips stance and stood beside her. He faked hesitation, acting as if the thought was simply a passing one, "Oh, and Meera? About this Brian guy?"

Having already turned to leave, Meera smiled slyly before whirling back around to face him, "Yes?"

"Uh, sometimes the guys and I used to go for beers, a while ago now but I still speak to some of them in passing and I heard that his last relationship ended because he cheated on his partner."

Meera looked him up and down, "I didn't have you pegged as a gossip, Donald Ressler…"

"Like I said, something I heard in passing. Just remembered it when I heard his name again. Don't know the guy, but it seems a bit suspicious, given what's just happened to Liz, I don't think he's the ideal candidate, do you?"

Meera, deadpanning, agreed, "Well if that's the case then of course not!"

"Better for the taskforce as well I think."

"Of course! The taskforce…."

Ressler had had more than his fill of awkward silences for the day yet here he was…

"And besides," Meera eventually continued, "I'd hate to see what'd happen to the guy if he hurt Agent Keen and Red got his hands on him."

"Yeah." And upon thinking, Ressler frowned, "Or you know, if we did."

Meera nodded pensively, somehow maintaining a straight face "Or, you know, if _you_ did."

Ressler straightened, agreeing wholeheartedly, "Yeah. Me. That's right. If I did."

He looked to the ground and realized he'd been made. "Wait-"

She was gone.  
And she'd taken his coffee.

* * *

"Meera?" Liz looked up from over Aram's shoulder, "Could you ask Cooper why facial recognition is down?"

"Sure." Meera walked past the two bemused agents and then stopped in her tracks. "Actually, Liz, would you mind joining me?"

Liz looked at her warily, "Why..?"

"It's nothing like that this time, honestly" she promised, getting impatient

Liz nodded to Aram and caught up with Meera, "So what is it then?"

Looking over her shoulder for eavesdroppers, Meera stopped walking again, pulling Liz aside, "Ok, I understand why Brian is a no."

"I just can't bring any new people into my life right now Meera."

"Exactly! So, how about you just…upgrade the relationship you have with someone already in your life?"

"Meera! They're our co-workers!"

"And? Don't look at me like I'm the bad kid at boarding school telling you to smoke behind the bike shed! Don't tell me you haven't at least thought about it!"

Liz gaped at her, scandalized but with amusement in her expression 'You _have_?!"

Meera nodded efficiently, motioning around the room, "Aram's not my type and Ressler's too inhibited but Cooper's a different story." She smiled cheekily.

Liz slapped her lightly on the arm, laughing, shocked, "Meera he's _married_"

She scoffed, "Yeah and so were you." Then, screwing up her face slightly she added, "Sorry, too soon?"

Liz laughed, "You're unbelievable."

Touched, Meera simply said "Thank you," before getting back on track, relentless, "So! If you're put off by the whole already-committed thing, which is fair enough I think you've had your share of men with double lives, that leaves only Ressler."

"Ressler is my partner Meera, that's all." Liz shook her head adamantly.

From the other side of the room, Ressler could see them staring and hoped they weren't laughing about earlier. He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

It suddenly all made sense to Liz. "Meera? On second thoughts, I'll have Brian's number."

Meera's face fell. She hadn't anticipated this. "Oh…it's um, it's… I must have dropped it."

Liz narrowed her eyes, gleefully having outfoxed her, "Oh, but you're never that careless."

Meera sighed. She had been made.

"This was your plan all along wasn't it! Me and Ressler!" Liz laughed at the irritated expression on her friend's face, she was such a sore loser. "I bet there is no Brian!"

"There is a Brian and he does think you're hot but he's got a reputation and pretty bad breath, actually."

Liz started to walk away, smiling, rolling her eyes.

"Ressler. Consider it Liz, please?"

Looking over at a still-confused Ressler, Liz really couldn't hide her amusement.

Meera just smiled and under her breath muttered, "I didn't hear a no…"


	2. Where's home?

**Note: A lot more angst, a tiny bit of Reddington (more to follow) and a little less Meera, more Ressler. **

Elizabeth Keen walked up to Meera Malik's desk with the barely concealed excitement of a schoolgirl on a Friday afternoon that had a bag full of clothes to change into at the end of the day, plans made, fun to be had, finally.

"Did you ask Samar about tonight?"

"Yeah, she can't make it. Date night with Aram." She shook her head mournfully.

"Aw. I was really hoping she'd join us." Liz confessed.

"I know." Meera tapped her fingers against the desk, "Bros before hoes, right?"

Liz stared blankly at her. Meera stared back and then looked away, straightening her collar and stiffening up.

"Shall we pretend that never happened?" She asked, coldly professional again.

Liz suppressed a laugh from behind her fingers, "I think that would be best."

A fedora was placed on the desk and both young women followed the arm holding it, to the man controlling the arm. The concierge of crime, Raymond Reddington. Followed, naturally, by the ever-loyal Dembe.  
"Are you planning a night out on the town Lizzie?"

Liz looked at the ground, then at Meera. What was the safest way to answer this?  
Red did not wait for a response "Well, I'm always a welcome addition on these particular evenings, and besides, having a world-class criminal leading the pack might _just_ begin to combat the repulsive FBI-ness of Agent Malik's pantsuit."

He smiled at her acidly and looked her up and down. "Classy choice."  
Meera rolled her eyes, "I'm not wearing my work clothes."  
"That should be interesting! Perhaps there is a vixen beneath the polyester. Now I simply must have an invite!" He retorted.  
Liz looked to them both in amusement, "Sorry, Red. It's kind of a girl's night."  
Red smiled, his hand still on his fedora, "Ah, girl's nights…" he looked off fondly, with a reminiscent happiness, "So many I have attended, so few I can remember. But those I do, let me tell you. Unforgettable."

Meera wrinkled her nose, looked away, "Gross."

"Anyway, I'm not a beggar. You two have fun." He flipped the fedora in his hand and placed it atop his head as he began to walk away.

As if on cue from Reddington's exit, Ressler swept in through the office and with a wave of his arm, he beckoned Meera outside, "A word, Agent Malik?"

She barely had the chance to reply before they were out of earshot of Liz, who could do nothing other than shrug and hope Meera wasn't causing more trouble.

"What's going on?" She asked, stopping them both

"Did you uh… deal with the issue with that security guy? I mean, I was assuming you had because she hadn't told me anything about it but then it occurred to me that if something did happen, there would be no reason for her to tell me and so I thought I'd better check and-"

"Brian's out." She affirmed, cutting him short.

"Oh. Good." Ressler nodded, letting out a breath, "I mean, not 'good', that sounds strange…"

Meera smiled mischievously "How so?"

He went red, "Uh, of course! I meant good as in, 'oh good, that guy isn't going to mess with our colleague- friend' uh, I just didn't want you to think I meant it in any other way."

"I don't know what you mean, but okay." Meera said innocently

"Okay. Well. I'm glad we cleared that up," he looked off into the distance as if reminded by something and walked off, to save face.

Meera laughed to herself as he marched away.

* * *

"But I just don't understand how you can eat a food you hate for two years, when you're married to someone, and they never find out!"

"Well you don't want to tell them on the first morning!" Liz protested, taking another sip of her wine, "and then he went out of his way to make them all the time and the next thing I know we're married and then it's gone too far"

Meera burst out laughing, hitting her hand against the side of the table.

"What's so funny?" Liz was frowning and laughing simultaneously

"You were living a double life too!"

Liz was mock horrified at the joke but still couldn't hide her laughter; it was nice to take the awful situation a little more lightly.

Meera's phone buzzed on the table, automatically, she picked it up "Hello...Really? Okay then, I'll be there soon. Is she there? Can I speak to her…?"

Meera mouthed 'sorry' at Liz, and wandered a few feet away to continue talking.  
Liz smiled understandingly. At least they'd had a good few hours to catch up.

Meera rushed back, stashing her phone in her bag, "Sorry. I've got to go. My daughter was staying at a friend's house tonight but she's not feeling well,"

"I figured." Liz smiled, "On you go, I'll just stay here for a bit. Hope she feels better soon."  
As she watched Meera walk away, Liz considered the drinks menu for a few moments and then, once her friend was gone, she approached the bar.

* * *

It was almost 11 pm when she spotted Ressler. Possibly Ressler. Possibly an equally attractive red-headed man. She couldn't quite tell. He was blurry. She'd been here for a while.

"Keen?" Ressler looked mortified, "Oh, god… I didn't realize this was where you and Meera were going."

It must have been Ressler because he knew her name. She whirled round on the stool and forgot to maintain her balance.

"Woah." He put an arm out to steady her, shuffling aside.

"Meera had to go." Liz focused hard on pressing the words out coherently.

"You're here alone?" He looked around incredulously. "I'm calling you a cab." He took a couple of steps away from her and brought a phone out of his pocket.

Liz scowled at him. Always by-the-book. Never any fun. She made a face behind his back.

"He wasn't giving you any trouble, was he?" A casually dressed, female bartender leaned across to ask Liz.

Liz frowned, "No."

Remembering that she was F.B.I and that she could potentially extract more information from this civilian she leaned forward in response. "Why?" she asked, with a hidden sense of pride at her intel-gathering skills.

The girl shrugged, polishing a glass "Didn't think he was, he just doesn't usually interact with anyone. He's kind of a regular. Comes here every month or so, hits it hard. Alex, over there," she pointed down the bar at a young man with dark hair, "he usually has to pour him in a cab around closing time. I think the guy lost his wife, girlfriend, something like that. It's a shame; they used to come here together. She was nice. Pretty, always tipped well."

Liz looked back at Ressler, staring at him sadly.

He noticed her and cupped a hand over the receiver of the phone, "You aren't still staying in that motel, are you?"  
Liz nodded slowly, trying hard to focus on its address.

He sighed, uncovered the receiver, "Sorry, pal- yeah, it's not needed anymore."

"Let's go." He nodded at Liz, and then at the bartender, who looked reassured.

"No! I want to stay!" Liz protested, pulling at the sleeve of his jacket, "You haven't even had a drink yet."  
"I think you're finished with that." He gave her a tight-lipped smile and lent his arm to her, which she reluctantly took, to make it out of the crowded room.

"You can crash at mine if you want Keen, I'll sleep on the couch." He told her once they were outside, on the street.

"Stop trying to look after me! I just wanted a normal night, to get a little drunk, I don't need protecting, Ressler." She refused his arm and walked a few paces behind. The cold night air was hitting her in horrible, sobering ways and the warmth and buzz of the club was getting further and further from her. Cars fled past on the road and they were dizzying.

Ressler shrugged, seemingly annoyed and walked ahead, as she wished. His shoulders tensed, like they did when you knew he had something to say. It infuriated Liz.

"So what?" She demanded, trying to catch his arm and pull him back, but missing, "You're mad at_ me_ now?!"

He stopped and hesitated, trying to bite his tongue, "Yes. Okay? I'm mad."

"Why? You can hardly criticize me for having _one night out_. Nobody can, but you? I don't think you're in a position to say anything."

Hurt flashed in Ressler's eyes. He paced backwards and ran a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, devastatingly defeated.

Liz would have done anything to take it back, but her pride was hurt too so it was only going to get worse before it got better.

"I'm going in the other direction. I'll go home fi-" She lost her footing slightly and stumbled off the sidewalk.

Ressler jumped forward, too far away to reach her, fear seizing around his heart.

She fell forward, back into safety, just as a car sped past, and another one. Her chest pounding, Ressler leaned forward to help her up.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. No need to say I told you so." She brushed him off, although she'd rather stay close.

Ressler hadn't quite recovered yet. He held his hands over his head, trying to get his breath back. Under his breath he muttered, "This is unfair."

"What? How is this unfair for you?" She demanded, hearing him.

"Because," he started to raise his voice "we don't get to have ordinary lives. We work in a world with Raymond Reddington, and hopefully, you know, just maybe we do good and help people because of it. But you can't wander home to your motel on a Friday night when you're not at your peak condition - there are people out there that will take advantage of any weakness, will take any opportunity to hurt you because Raymond Reddington cares about you, and that makes the world a dangerous place, Keen."

He stopped, breathless. She just stared, processing.

"And it _is _unfair, it's so unfair because," his voice started breaking off with desperation and hurt, "because, Raymond Reddington isn't the only one that cares about you."

The cold air swirled around them, the riptide of cars hurrying past. Liz staunched a tear in one eye with her thumb.

"…it doesn't matter though, what I think. There's people out there who want to hurt you because of what you are to someone else. That's a very real threat. And it's just unfair."

Liz leaned out and took his arm again. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding it out. She thought again about Audrey and how Ressler had lost her unfairly, because he loved her and that made her world a dangerous place. As they walked in silence she thought about how the woman at the bar lost a good tipper and Ressler had lost everything. Almost everything, she thought to herself, with a new resolve. He still had her. She was going to do her best to make sure that remained true.

"I'm sorry." She murmured.

"Me too." He looked at her with a soft smile as they reached the apartment door. Once inside, he went to the cupboard and grabbed a spare pillow for the sofa, opening the bedroom door for Liz.

"You can sleep in there, I'll be out here if you need anything."

She nodded, exhausted, emotionally and physically.

Somehow she found herself hugging Ressler tightly, "It'll work out. Somehow. It has to."

He froze, and then hugged her back, feeling awkwardly sober, but comforted "Night, Keen."


	3. Unresolved

It was morning, Liz almost surfaced to the grating noise of a phone vibrating. Disoriented, she couldn't work out where it was. Where _she_ was. Ressler's.  
The noise was so irritating but she couldn't pull herself awake to find it. Still half-conscious she saw an oblivious Ressler pad in, barefoot, in plaid pajama bottoms and a black cotton t-shirt. He reached towards his bedside table and silenced the phone, relieved to see it hadn't woken his partner, as she appeared fully asleep. He began walking away, and hesitated, biting his lip, pacing forward and then back before he decided to lift the covers up and around her, delicately, trying not to trip up on his own boundaries. She rolled over and panic struck him, but he regained his composure and tentatively let go of the duvet cover.

He stood in the doorway for a moment on his way out. He'd never felt that conflicted before, knowing there was no other option but to walk away and yet the overwhelming desire to do _anything_, anything to make this moment count, was tearing him up. He saw Elizabeth every single day at work and yet every moment in her presence felt like an opportunity, a gift that he didn't know what to do with, that he kept wasting. As if he were driving past the most beautiful, tragic sights he'd ever seen and even if he stopped the car and got out he still couldn't interact with the moment, be in the moment. Elizabeth, Agent Keen, she was magnetic to him, if she was in the corner of the room it would become the center, he would gravitate towards her. He didn't know how not to feel this way. No matter how, no matter in what sense- he was always going harbor feelings for her, if they parted today and never spoke again he'd remember her wistfully in his old age and feel somehow, that he was being pulled, dragged in the same directionless direction that he was just now. He felt as if he didn't know where she was, even though she lay in front of him - but he knew that he was in the wrong place because he was not with her, and so that tugging feeling continued. Did he love her? In some capacity, maybe. Was he _in_ love with her? That was a question that was, in his mind, fenced off by barriers and hang-ups and refusals to deal with his emotions.

He broke away from the doorframe, still unresolved.

The phone call had been Meera. He imagined she was worried about where Liz was, or hadn't heard from her so he texted her himself. Ressler wasn't exactly a conversationalist over text and so he'd never needed to contact Meera before. He sent her a quick message: _Liz is fine. She stayed at mine last night, too drunk to go home alone. She's still sleeping._

Of course, Meera had a fast reply: _Hope she's okay when she wakes up. Have fun dealing with the hangover…speaking of fun, were you drinking __**together **__last night?! She was fine when I left! _

Ressler felt a simple: '_No.'_ was a sufficient answer. Meera would never believe him anyway.

It was a very unpleasant day, as far as the weather was concerned. Lifting the blinds barely made the room any brighter. Sitting on the sofa, Ressler decided to set about finishing some paperwork he'd been putting off, and became acutely aware that he was missing his reading glasses. He'd left them in his room.

As he got closer to the door, everything started to happen in a strangely removed way, as soon as he heard the muffled crying; soft, indefinable sadness that could not be vocalized. He pushed the door open gently but in his mind it required strength.

"Liz?" he asked, confused. She had a hand wrapped around his glasses and she'd pressed them into her chest, where the almost-silent cries shook her. She looked lost in the borrowed grey t-shirt.

"I'm fine Ressler, it's stupid." She tried to maintain a steady, unaffected tone.

He shook his head. He could hardly look at her, the blues in her irises almost fluorescent behind the tears. "You can tell me," He said, in a hoarse whisper, as he realized he hadn't spoken since he woke up.

She was still gripping the glasses tightly when she lifted her head and looked at him. Moving subconsciously, Ressler sat on the edge of his bed and covered her hands with his own. Slowly she relaxed her hold on them and let Ressler take them away. He sat them on the floor and brought his attention back to her immediately.

"Keen" he murmured, lifting her chin gently with his hand "What's going on?"

"The glasses," she gasped, "I woke up and saw them and for a moment, just for a moment, I thought I was at home, with Tom."

Ressler knew she wasn't finished yet, he just looked at her and helped her realize nothing she'd say would make him get up and walk out.

"And then I realized that my husband was dead," her breaths shuddered "the man that I was married to, I don't even know if he needs them or whether they were just a prop. The glasses were Tom Keen and I miss him, but he's dead. He's dead and he's not ever coming back."

She gulped suddenly, remembering Audrey, "Ressler, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I just said that. You obviously know what it's like to lose someone and I shouldn't act like it's the same thing. That's not fair on you."

He cupped her face with his hand, "You lost someone you loved too- worse than that you had all your memories tarnished by a selfish and heartless man and you're entitled to grieve."

For a moment, a brief moment she leaned her face against his hand and closed her eyes. Ressler's lip quivered as he watched her internalize her pain and regain composure, like taking a bitter pill. He knew it hadn't been resolved.

She put some distance between them and forced a smile. Ressler was aching to bring her in closer, to look into her eyes as she cried and experience her pain to lessen the burden. But he refrained, she needed space.

She laughed weakly, "Since when did you wear glasses?"

Ressler looked away, smiling at the ground, giving himself a moment to normalize too, "I got them when I was a kid. I use them for reading."

"I've never seen you wear them in the office." She stated, confused.

"Well I'd rather squint at the paper than wear those awful, uncomfortable contacts but if I really had to, I'd wear contacts over glasses. Saying that, I rarely do." He shrugged.

"Straining your eyes must give you headaches though!" She admonished, glad to be talking about anything other than her ex-husband.

"Yeah. It really does." He admitted, laughing.

"So why are you so anti-glasses?" She teased

He picked them up off the ground, fiddling with them self-consciously, "They don't suit me. They make me look…" he hesitated, "…goofy."

She giggled slightly, looking at up at him. He returned the laugh, at ease.

"Can I see?" She asked

"No, never!" He laughed, "It's not happening,"

Just as she was about to insist, her phone rang again. Meera.

Ressler passed her the phone, concerned, and Liz picked up the call, "Yes?"

Within moments she hung up, in professional mode, she got up and walked around the edge of the bed as she talked, "New blacklister- we've been called in."

Ressler nodded, jumping into action too- "You heard from Reddington yet?"

Liz shook her head, running her fingers through her messy hair, "We've to meet him at his private jet- everyone's going. As fast as we can, it's time sensitive. He left a message with Meera so I don't know the specifics yet… I think that means he knows where I am."

"Oh." That was the extent of Donald Ressler's thoughts on that.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Liz exclaimed, clapping her hands to her head comically.

"What's wrong?" Ressler asked

"What am I going to wear? Or pack?" Liz motioned to her borrowed cotton t-shirt and looked up, hopelessly.

"Well that's problematic."


	4. Aeroplane Freefall

**Hi- thanks to everyone who's been keeping up to date with the story so far! Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, and sorry it's so hard on Keenler, I promise there will be a pay off before long, within a few chapters :) I missed seeing mean Liz and distant Ressler so I kind of returned to their season one personas in this a bit.**

It's funny how you can forget how hungover you are until you're sitting in a car, watching the miles fly behind you as someone else is driving. Liz prayed to god she wasn't going to throw up in Ressler's car, in his clothes.

Yes, in Ressler's clothes. There had been no time to go back to her motel.

As they came up to the arranged area of take off, Ressler came round the side of the car to let her out. Normally, he'd have let her do it herself but he registered her nauseated expression and sympathized. He'd been there before.

As luck would have it, Meera was the first one to see them. Her mouth dropped open and she lifted her arm like a reflex, hitting Aram in the bicep for him to see it too, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on her colleagues.

Aram exhaled in disbelief and amusement.

Elizabeth Keen, hovering over Donald Ressler's arm, just in case she needed to grab it, teetered towards them in last night's heels, one of Ressler's work shirts and a pair of suit trousers, rolled up at the ankle and cinched at the waist by the belt she had worn with her dress. Her hair was scraped back in a bun and she was wearing sunglasses, in a weak attempt to fend off a headache.

"Holy shit." Samar laughed, joining them to see what the fuss was about.

Mortified, Ressler gave them a brief wave as they walked over to the private jet, feeling scrutinized, wishing they could somehow get there faster. As the last ones there, when they finally got close enough, everyone started to board.

"No one's watching, Liz." He told her, when she grappled with the metal handrail and almost fell flat on her face, having climbed only two steps.

Checking first to make sure it was true, she leaned back into his arms and he guided her, laughing softly "You know, I could cash this in now and make fun of you but I have a feeling you'll get the opportunity to return the favor some day."

Liz just nodded with her lips firmly pressed together.

From the cabin window, Meera and Aram elbowed each other out of the way, trying to watch, "Go back to your seat, Meera! There's a window there!"

"You can't-" She pushed into him with force, "- see from that angle!"

Aram suddenly leaned back, losing interest as Samar casually walked over and sat on his knee, peering through the window as well, winking at Meera.

"Quick!" Meera dashed back to her seat as Liz and Ressler approached the cabin.

Aram, not a trained undercover operative, struck a really bad 'act casual' pose, as Samar coolly lifted herself from his knee into the adjacent seat and picked up a newspaper.

"Really guys?" Liz mumbled, witnessing the commotion.

Ressler stiffened up, feeling as if he'd been slapped in the face. He hated people making fun of him, "I'm going to sit over there," He nodded to Liz, practically dropping her in the nearest seat.

She glared at his back as Meera switched seats to come over to her, "What was that about?"

Liz rolled her eyes, hard, then instantly regretted it, "That was Ressler becoming Agent Ressler."  
Meera shamelessly turned round and glared at him. He shrugged aggressively.

"You know, he's getting to be hot and cold with you, just as much as you are with Reddington."

Liz frowned at her.

"I'm calling it as I see it," Meera held her hands up

"Ressler's never been hot with me anyway, Meera."

She raised an eyebrow, "Just for you."

"Please stop." Nauseated, she turned to look out the window.

"Yes, you're right," Meera nodded, "Ressler's never been hot with you. He is completely indifferent towards you. I was wrong, I'll admit it. I was just convinced otherwise by the fact that he bends and breaks his lifesaver-shaped moral code for you over, and over. That he rushes to your side with his arms outstretched every time you're hurt or upset, I mean he literally carries you, how off-putting. Maybe I was simply confused by the fact he gets extremely angry about Tom, and all that Tom's done to you, maybe I was fooled into thinking that he cared when he stayed late after work to talk to you, or to spend your birthday together. That was all cold, last night as well, letting you stay at his place, the fact that you're dressed in his clothes is also totally irrelevant"

Liz sighed, "You've made your point. But my point is, Ressler is too… Ressler, to ever be more than a colleague to me. It's like we're soldiers. We have camaraderie because we've been through the same shit but that's the extent of it."

"Whatever you say." Meera glanced behind her at Ressler again. He had quite literally put a guard up, a newspaper held up right in front of his face.

There was some slight turbulence and Liz had to struggle not throw up. Waiting until the moment had passed, she asked Meera, "Where are we even going?"

"France." Meera informed her, "Just a little seaside town but there's been a family there helping Red out for generations, he thinks they can get us some intel on this guy," she opened a paper folder and slid out a picture, "No one's ever seen his face, the few pictures of him in existence are taken from behind, with his head obscured, such as this one."

"Not a lot to go on," Liz commented

"No, it's not and-" Meera stopped, concentrating on Liz, "Agent Keen, if you want to go to the bathroom and be hungover with some dignity, that's fine by me, " she winked, "your face is green."

"Thank god," Liz got up and walked away.

Meera waited until she had gone and walked up to the two seats which faced Aram and Samar, calling Ressler over to join.

"Have you guys been over the case?"

"Yeah." Samar answered for both her and Aram, "We looked over it waiting on Ressler and Keen to arrive this morning."

Ressler grumbled incoherently, Meera shot him a look.

"What?"

"Have _you_ been over the case?"

"Yes. Of course." He looked affronted.

Aram grinned, "Okay, so can we talk about why you and Agent Keen arrived together this morning, with Liz dressed like Mia Wallace dragged through a hedge backwards?"

Ressler frowned, "She looked not bad, considering she was pretty badly drunk last night," he snapped

Samar smiled, amused. "Defensive." She commented.

Ressler sighed deeply, "Nothing happened. I just wasn't letting my colleague crawl home through the gutter, okay?" He glanced at Aram, "I'd have done the same for you."

Aram wrinkled his nose, "Well for future reference, I'd prefer if you just called me a cab. I don't think your clothes would suit me."

Ressler put his head in his hands, and then slammed them against the little table in between the four chairs, "**_Nothing_**. Happened."

Meera put her hands up in surrender, "Fine, fine. We believe you."

He rubbed his temple. No good deed, right?

"She's not even my type." He muttered, pulling a face. It was for the best that everyone believed that.

Of course, with Ressler's luck this would be the moment a very weary-looking Elizabeth Keen reappeared behind him.

"Oh, shit." Meera looked at her feet, feeling awkward.

Liz stared at him for a moment and then walked back to her seat, not saying anything.

Ressler had no idea how to fix this.

Liz went back to her seat, her face burning, mortified. She felt rejected and dismissed. It was hard to internalize the pain of this particular betrayal- but she sat alone and felt a barrier grow. Her colleagues had seen her as a bitch before; well they could do it again. She had been wrong about Ressler; she couldn't trust him and he didn't understand her.

* * *

It was later on at night when he finally got a chance to talk to her. They'd had to stop for a while due to flight problems and he had no idea whether it was late in America or late in Europe or exactly what time zone he was in, but it was dark outside.

"Keen." He came and sat beside her. She ignored him.

"Aww come on, don't be like this."

"Don't be like what?"

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier."

Liz closed over the file she was reading and stared him in the eyes, pronouncing each word carefully, "I now can't decide whether I'm more insulted that you think I care about whether or not you find me attractive, or that it's a topic you're wiling to discuss with the rest of our co-workers."

Ressler stared at her, feeling stupid.

"Oh. Okay. Well I'm sorry for that too then."

Liz just rolled her eyes.

"I guess that's that then." He sat for a moment, feeling awkward, and then got up to leave. She grabbed him by the wrist. He looked down at her instantly, feeling hopeful.

"Look. Ressler." Her tone was stern and it diminished his hopes, "I think we crossed a line today. We embarrassed ourselves in front of our colleagues and this needs to stay professional. I totally accept that I was just as much to blame for how we arrived, but we just need to step back. I respect you, you're good at your job- but for us to _be _good at our jobs we can't go on like this. We're FBI agents. I appreciate all you did for me this morning, I do, but I shouldn't have burdened you-"

"It wasn't a-"

"Let me finish." She took a deep breath, trying to eliminate any emotion from her voice, "we just can't depend on each other in that way. You don't care how I feel, or what I think of you and the same goes for me. If we remember that, it'll work better."

Ressler's heart contracted. It felt like he was being dumped somehow, like something was ending, a deep and soulful connection had been broken.

"Fine." He whispered hoarsely and walked back to his seat, for the next hour staring at the same article and reading not a single word of it, not even thinking about the door that had just closed in his face, not feeling anything he was still just falling, freefalling through the air, and even when the plane landed, he was still tumbling. Liz pushing him away had sent him over a precipice and he was yet to hit the ground.


	5. Perpetually Uncomfortable

"No." Ressler annunciated aggressively. "That is definitely a _double bed_." He grabbed a random handful of marine zoo leaflets from the holder beside him and scrunched them in his fist, waving around until his face turned puce. His fellow agents stood back and watched.

The poor reception attendant looked around hopelessly, the faster the angry man spoke, the less he could understand. He lifted both hands in question to the man's companions.

Aram, Meera, Samar and Liz shook their heads. They couldn't help.

Samar turned back to the group, "So, if Ressler's refusing to share the double bed with Aram-"

Aram nodded desperately; Ressler was in far too bad a mood for them to be in such close proximity.

"-then Aram and I can share that room, I'm sure, I mean Aram almost never gets to do field work so this is kind of a one-off for us,"

She smiled gently at him and he nodded with even more enthusiasm,

"Then Meera and Liz, you can take the three single beds intended for the three of us, and you can share with Ressler. We'll only use our rooms for sleeping, so it shouldn't be a problem, and you can change in the bathrooms."

Meera waved away her hand, "Don't worry about it, I've been in more awkward room-sharing situations than this one… at least there _is_ a bathroom."

Samar grinned at her, "Agent Keen, what do you think?"

Liz thought a lot of things. None of which she could currently voice, "Fine by me." She smiled at Meera, hoping she could completely ignore Ressler for the rest of the case.

They all fell silent as Ressler marched towards them "Nothing they can do." He said through gritted teeth. He smiled acidly at Aram, "Guess we're roomies then. You better not snore, or kick in your sleep. I sleep on the left of the bed, okay? Always the left."

"Um…" Aram looked to Samar for help, then Meera. Liz was in a kind of scary mood too so he was avoiding her gaze.

"We've rearranged the rooms." Samar told him shortly, and walked off.

Meera and Aram followed her lead, and Liz, the last to catch on, saw Ressler turn on her and demand, "What?"

"You and I are sharing with Meera." She said flatly, "Three single beds."

She turned on her heel and left him there to process.

* * *

"So." Meera sat on the edge of her bed and looked at the agents on the beds on either side. There was no response from either of them, "This should be fun."

Ressler had calmed down a bit, now feeling mournful rather than angry. He snatched a glance at Liz, who was still freezing him out. He wished Meera would leave for just a couple of seconds so he could talk to her but at the same time, he knew it wouldn't help. He had screwed up and he'd lost what he was now coming to realize, was one of- if not the only- significant, meaningful part of his life.

He stole another glance at her, because he was helpless not to.

Liz sighed deeply, "I'm going to go and work in the lounge." She got up off her bed and marched out of the room with an armful of paper.

When her footsteps faded away, Meera turned to Ressler.

"You fucked up," she said, matter-of –factly.

Ressler did his infuriating smile, the hurtful, cruel one, "That'd be based on an assumption that I cared if Keen was mad at me or not."

"Don't be a child." She told him. "You do care. Pretending not to got you here in the first place."

"That's nice, Malik. Any chance you can give this little pep talk to Keen as well? If anyone's being childish it's her."

"I tried." Meera shook her head, "She wasn't taking any of it- I don't want to be in the doghouse as well" she threw her hands up

Ressler nodded, he understood. His expression was more honest now; the deep frown lines in his forehead, the troubled eyes proved to Meera his wounded heart. He lay back on his bed, exhausted, "She wants space, so if that's what she wants I'll try and play along."

"She doesn't want space Ressler." Meera was beginning to get frustrated with the man, was he really this dense? "This all started because you insinuated she repelled you. Liz wouldn't give a shit about anyone's opinion unless she actually cared what it was."

Ressler couldn't discuss it anymore, Meera hadn't seen the look in her eyes and he couldn't afford to hope.

"This is hopeless. I don't even know what I want." He exhaled

"Well you're a moron. Agent Keen is smart and beautiful and funny, and she puts up with your shit already so that's not a concern." Meera admonished.

"Thanks Meera. Everything's suddenly became crystal-clear, now that you've weighed in." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Fine, I'll shut up." She turned away and pulled out her phone, occupying herself.

He stared at the ceiling, restless. He needed a beer for this.

"I'm going to the bar." He announced, slapping the bed as he got onto his feet.

"Thought you didn't drink on the job?" Meera asked.

Ressler paused, with the hotel room door half open, "This job has taken over my life. And I want a beer."

Meera laughed good-humoredly, "Well said. I won't stop you."

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

By the time he'd managed to get served at the hotel bar (his reputation as the 'angry man from reception' preceded him) he felt like he'd earned his drink. All enjoyment was stolen from him, however, when someone sat down beside him and ordered a scotch.

"For fuck's sake," Ressler looked up and glared at Raymond Reddington. "Can't I enjoy five minutes of peace in my life, without you infiltrating it with your Blacklist crap?"

Reddington's expression did not change, "Donald. Look around you- You're in France! Enjoy it- you're here at my request, did that occur to you? A nice break from DC, no?" he asked mildly, taking a sip of his drink.

"There are at least 13 other empty stools around this bar." The younger man grumbled as a response

"Donald, I'm going to offer you a piece of advice," Reddington ignored him, "If Lizzie is mad at you, fix it. It can be done, no matter how angry it is- if she cares about you, she'll come around."

"I am _not_ discussing this with you." Ressler spat, "The fact you even know that Keen is mad at me is reason enough not to trust you."

Red looked slightly insulted, "It wasn't exactly taxing to figure out what was wrong, Donald." He frowned, "With the greatest respect, you have very little else going on in your life."

Ressler smiled at him with menace, "Fuck you."

"The truth hurts!" Reddington took another draw of his scotch.

Ressler motioned to the waiter that he wanted another drink, something stronger. It slid across the polished wood and neatly into his hand.

"So what did she tell you?" Red enquired, "Go to hell? You're dead to me? It's over?"

Ressler swallowed half his drink down and gasped before answering, "She just told me we need to be professional." He blinked at the strength of what he was ingesting, "Told me she didn't care about me."

Red pursed his lips, tilting his head, "Now that's cold."

Widening his eyes in disbelief, Ressler commented, "I cannot believe. I am having this conversation with you."

"Well then drink up," he motioned with his head that Ressler should finish the rest of his drink and then called the waiter, ordering for them both in perfect French.

A now-wobbly Ressler rolled his eyes with a touch of melodrama.

"So do you want to fix it?" Reddington asked him

"Yes." Ressler replied with conviction. "_Yes."_

"Remind her that she does care about you." Red stated. "Remind her why."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fuck that, _I_ don't even know. I don't know what I want either."

"Does it matter?" Red asked, exasperated, "Donald, find out what she wants. Then see if you agree. That's the only way forward. It isn't all about you, you know."

Ressler opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again.

"I know you're never going to thank me," Red smiled, "But you're welcome

He laid some money out on the bar and stepped down from the stool. Ressler just watched him walk away.

* * *

He'd known he was working the next day, drawn the line at his last drink with Red, and headed back up to his room. Empty, thank god. Still feeling fuzzy, he decided to go for a shower. When he was done, he sat down in the empty bathtub and braced his head in his hands, just wanting to think, without advice or interruption. That was when the door opened. _Fuck, he'd forgotten to lock it. _Habit of living alone, enforced by the fact he was quite nearly wasted.

How long had he been sitting in the bath for? The whole thing was enclosed by Plexiglas, and had steamed up to the point at which it was opaque, but he'd been there so long, the steamed glass was beginning to ebb away, and he started to feel extremely nervous. He heard the sound of someone brushing their teeth. The vague shape in front of him had to be Liz, judging by height. As if this day couldn't get any worse. His clothes were sitting in a heap on the floor, but maybe she assumed he'd left them there and had changed into his clothes for sleeping in already? He reached out, ready to rap on the glass with his knuckle but froze. He was totally naked. Then again, being here without her knowing felt like a total invasion of privacy. She'd been here about a minute now, a minute more, and she'd leave. Then he could wait and exit safely. Make some bullshit excuse about coming in quietly and going straight to the bathroom, if she cared enough to ask.

The glass was becoming less and less protective of his modesty. He rose to a standing position and pressed himself flat into the corner to buy more time. _For fuck's sake, could he look any more like a serial killer right now? _He squirmed, a shiver ran up his spine, he felt so goddamn uncomfortable. This was like being back in the office, hearing Liz and Meera talk about Brian- but worse, oh god, so much worse, because he was _naked. _And trapped. And…. Cold. Fuck.

Liz ran her hands through her hair, angry and frustrated. Today had been shit. She'd woken up this morning with a friend who was looking out for her and somehow he'd proven to her that he wasn't what she'd thought- and now he was absent from her life. She was proud of herself, proud of her strength, for being able to shut him out when she had so few people left. But she didn't feel any better for it.

"Aargh!" She let out a cry of frustration as she dropped her face cleanser in the sink. She couldn't think straight right now. She was finally ready to talk, with Meera, with Samar – but both were occupied, Meera involved in a lengthy long-distance call to her family, and Samar was in her room. Aram was there too.

She pulled herself together, wiping her eyes. They were dry, but it was instinct. She was stemming the flow of possible angry tears.

Ressler felt heart-sorry for her, but he also felt hellishly awkward. Then she took off her top, in one clean motion. Okay, this had gone too far.

"I'm here!" he blurted.

She screamed a bit. He tried to cover himself as best he could, with his hands.

"RESSLER?" She demanded

"Yeah." He said in a small voice.

"Where the _hell _are you?" She was near enough breathing fire.

"In the, um" he cleared his throat, "In the shower."

She whirled around on instinct and then closed her eyes, realizing the implications. Then turned around again realizing she was topless. Eyes still closed she grabbed out for her bra. "What. The. Hell." She roared, searching for her clothing on the countertop, blindly.

"Um, to your left Keen, to your left." He'd reach out and hand it to her but that would leave them both in a compromising position. And it would mean repositioning his hands, which would be a very bad idea.

Finally, she found it, and clutched it to her chest, marching out.

Ressler hurried out once she was safely back in the room, almost slipping in his haste and losing his footing. Fuck, fuck.

He grabbed a towel and tied it around his waist, checking it for reliability. This towel would _not _expose him.

"Keen, I'm really sorry."

Liz, one hand on her hip, and one covering her eyes, whirled round, tapping her foot, dropping the hand to glare at him.

"What…" she trailed off. He was covered, from the waist down, with the towel, but his torso was exposed and it took her by surprise. "What the hell were you thinking," she asked, weakly.

"Keen, I'm really sorry. I was just going to wait until you had left."

She refocused, glaring at him, "This is exactly the kind of situation I was trying to avoid."

"Well I'm sorry." He pleaded

"I'm going to finish getting ready for bed." She hissed, "Alone."

He waited until she had locked the bathroom door to get changed into a light t-shirt and plaid bottoms; he was nothing if not predictable in his ways.

He lay in bed, a single bed, but it somehow felt empty when Liz walked in and went to go and sleep on the far side of the room without saying a word.

He knew now, what he wanted. He just didn't know how to salvage it.


End file.
